I'll Watch Over You, Mr President
by Cali the Little Calico Kitten
Summary: Five times Secret Service Agent Dean Winchester saved President Castiel Novak's life when he didn't need to, and one time he actually did need to.
1. First Day

**A/N: This story is dedicated to StingSpring. I hope you enjoy, my friend!**

**So, this is an idea I had that I just had to write. Seriously, these nerds. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Also, slight warning for some mention of homophobia and bullying. It's mostly awkwardness though, poor Dean. I have 6 more chapters planned, so I hope this goes well!**

On the morning of Dean Winchester's first day as a secret Service Agent he adjusted his black tie carefully while looking in the bathroom mirror.

"Dean!"

Dean heard his brother's shout from downstairs echo throughout their house, and he sighed. "I'll be there in a moment, Sam!" he shouted back, adjusting the sleeves of his suit and judging his appearance in the mirror.

He was flattening down his hair when he heard his brother shout again.

"Dean!"

Dean rolled his eyes, reaching to grab his toothbrush, and ignoring Sam's shouts.

"I made breakfast!" his brother's voice called out.

Dean saw the confusion on his own face reflected in the mirror, in mid-tooth brush. _Sam made him breakfast… Sam made breakfast…_ Dean thought for a moment, but the two concepts of Sam and making breakfast could not connect properly in his mind. Dean usually made them breakfast or if they were running late, they'd pick up something separately on the way to work… But Sam making breakfast…

"Pancakes, Dean!"

Dean sighed in resignation, putting down the toothbrush. "I'm coming!" he called. He quickly pulled the Glock handgun that he had been issued out of its case and secured it in the holster on his side, hidden by the side of his jacket. He then exited the bathroom, and making his way downstairs, curious about the prospect of Sam making pancakes.

Surely enough, when Dean reached the kitchen he saw Sam standing over the stove, clad in a suit similar to Dean's, pan in hand, pancakes sizzling inside it, as he replaced the last of them onto a plate.

"Hey, Sammy…" Dean greeted, eyeing the pancakes suspiciously.

"Dean! You made it, I thought you'd never be done getting ready…"

Dean straightened his suit jacket carefully. "Can't I make sure I look awesome my first day on the job? Got to stand next to the President looking dangerous all day."

"Yeah, you look good, I'm just saying, you shouldn't worry about it, it's not your wedding or anything, and I thought you hated wearing suits." Sam looked at Dean as he set the pancakes on the table, raising his eyebrows. "Remember senior prom? You said—"

"I hated those monkey suits, but I was young and that one was like 3 sizes too big for me, man… I'm allowed to change my mind, I'm a grown up… anyways, what's with the breakfast?" Dean sat down at the table, staring at the pancakes as if they would disappear at any moment.

"It's your first day, Dean, I wanted to make sure you got a good breakfast." Sam said, sitting down beside Dean.

Dean raised his eyebrows back at his brother. "But, I usually make breakfast."

"Yeah," Sam shrugged, "I just thought you wouldn't want to this morning, you know?"

"Mhm," Dean mumbled suspiciously around a bite of pancakes that were very fluffy and syrupy and even delicious, glaring at his brother.

"I'm just trying to be nice, Dean!" Sam glared back, "Aren't you meeting the President today? You aren't the least bit nervous about that? That you'll have to protect him."

Dean swallowed another large bite of pancake. "I'm fine, Sammy, he's just going to some kind of speech thing today…"

"You mean the gay marriage support speech?" Sam interrupted.

"Yeah," Dean said, not surprised his brother kept track of the President's speeches. "That's cool."

"Cool? Yeah, Dean, but you—"

"Sam, I told you, I'm fine, you can relax," Dean said, finishing the last of the pancakes. "And thanks, for the pancakes."

Sam nodded, finished with his own pancakes. "Okay, just promise me you'll be careful."

Dean grinned. "You know I am, I didn't go through all that training for nothing."

"Dean." Sam gave him the long-suffering younger brother look.

"I promise I will, Sam," Dean told him, standing up, and putting on his jacket. "You just focus on defending your…defendant…"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I will. Don't forget your sunglasses, Dean."

"Oh…" Dean said, looking around, "Remind me, where I put those?"

"By the coat rack."

"Oh!" Dean exclaimed, picking them up and putting them on his face. "You're a life saver, thanks, Sam. 'Bye."

"Goodbye, Dean," Sam said, and Dean waved to him before exiting the house and getting into his '67 Chevy Impala, starting her up.

"Hey, you don't think I'm nervous, do you, Baby?" He told the car.

The Impala's engine revved as Dean stepped on the gas.

"You're right, I'm not nervous at all, everything will be fine, just meeting the President and other important people, just charged with the duty of protecting his life, no biggie."

The Impala continued to drive normally in response and Dean's fingers tapped on the steering wheel erratically the entire way to the White House.

When Dean arrived at the White House, a surprisingly short limo was parked in front of it, with several people wearing suits standing around it.

Dean walked over to them after parking his car, and a man immediately greeted him, shaking his hand firmly. Dean was concerned with the state of his sweaty hand in the handshake but the man didn't seem to mind. "Hey, brother," he said, "You must be Dean Winchester, it's good to meet you. My name's Benny, I've been Secret Service for four years now."

"Nice to meet you, Benny," Dean smiled slightly at the man. He seemed rough, but he talked pleasantly to Dean, much less scary than Dean had initially pictured when he saw himself meeting the other agents.

"This here is Rufus, another agent. He'll drive us." he gestured to another older man.

"Hello, Rufus," Dean said.

"Dean, is it? Nice to have another new one," He shook Dean's hand and Dean was begging to grow concerned about how many people's hands he would have to shake at this rate. He thought that perhaps he should go wash his hand after this and he wished that he wasn't so nervous and his hands weren't so sweaty for the second time. "Been gettin' tired of Benny here. Maybe he'll be gone soon."

Benny laughed. "You know I ain't going anywhere, Rufus, you're stuck with me."

Dean awkwardly smiled at their banter. "Good… so, uh, where is he… umm, the President?"

"Novak will get here soon, don't stress, Dean," Benny told him.

"Yeah, you look a little tense," Rufus commented.

Dean frowned. He was saved from continuing the conversation, however, when the doors opened and the President stepped out.

Dean was not prepared for that. He knew it was coming and he had seen President Castiel Novak on the TV passively many times, and yeah, okay, Dean thought the man seemed nice and maybe even humble like someone they defiantly needed running the country, and sure, Dean thought that he certainly looked pretty, defiantly more pretty than any of the past presidents. But the man was a distant figure, like a celebrity or a host of a game show or that 4th grade teacher that he ignored, so that Dean never really expected to ever actually make contact with any of them.

So, Dean just stared in awkward silence as President Novak walked up to him, his dark hair slightly askew and blowing in the light breeze, a long trenchcoat worn over his nicely tailored suit, holding a black briefcase, and his face serious, but somehow soft and not unwelcoming. Dean was absolutely certain that the TV did not do his appearance the justice it deserved. The President reached out a hand for Dean to shake. "Hello," he said, his voice deep and gravelly, but somehow smooth. "Are you Dean Winchester?"

"Umm…" Dean said, taking the President's hand. He had difficulty forming a response because the President of the United States was standing in front of him, and it was going to be Dean's job to protect him, and his hand was very soft in Dean's surely nasty grip, and his deep blue eyes were boring into Dean's own as if they could see everything, and all Dean could think was, _who the hell has eyes that are that blue?_

"…Yes," Dean finished finally, and felt the color rising in his cheeks as he realized that he was not actually shaking the man's hand, still just holding it in front of him, and he released his grip immediately. "Hello, Mr. President, I—I am Dean… Winchester, that is me."

The corner of Castiel's mouth curled upwards slightly, possibly in amusement. "It's nice to finally meet you. Do not worry," he said, and Dean began to think that his eyes really could see into Dean's mind. "It is alright that you are nervous, you will become more relaxed as you spend more time in the job. I am only going in for a short speech today, and you'll be beside me there."

Dean nodded, opting not to speak again out of fear for what other embarrassing things would come out of his mouth.

"Alright, then." Benny's words caused Dean to break his eye contact with the President, and they both turned to him as he opened the side door of the limo. "Let's get going."

Dean watched Castiel climb into the back space before climbing in after him, and Benny shut the door behind him, getting into the passenger's side beside Benny. Dean could hear Rufus start the engine and the car began to roll away from the White House, followed by several other black trucks and cars.

Dean was left staring at Castiel in silence, until the President opened his briefcase, pulling out some papers and flipping through them carefully. He made brief eye contact with Dean's questioning gaze, before turning back to the papers. "Just looking over my speech," he explained.

"Oh, cool," Dean said, dumbly. "You do good speeches on TV, I see them sometimes… Do they take a long time to make?"

Castiel looked at Dean again, his eyebrows going together, as if he was contemplating Dean's question. "I like to do most of the writing myself, so it can take a long time, but my V.P. Hannah and several others help me generate ideas and proofread. This one did not take me long to develop since my views and policy suggestions on it are quite clear and I feel strongly about these issues, which are rather personal to me, in support of gay marriage and rights." The President's face developed a slightly worried look for a brief moment, as he studied Dean. "Do you—" he began, "You are alright with this, correct?"

"Yes," Dean said, way too quickly to be in any way subtle or like any normal human. "It's—umm, yeah, it's nice that you would do that."

Castiel nodded. "I'm just doing what I feel is right."

"Mhm," Dean said, still focused on Castiel's earlier words. "That's good."

The rest of the ride went by mostly in silence as Castiel read over his speech and Dean was left wondering what Castiel meant by the cause being 'personal' to him.

Dean saw that the crowd was massive as he stepped out of the limo and put on his sunglasses, which Dean thought were mostly for the effect of looking intimidating, and Dean looked behind him to make sure the President followed.

A few people in front waved and shouted as Castiel emerged, holding up a few posters proclaiming their love for him or their support in marriage equality. The President waved and smiled warmly at them.

"Thank you for coming," he said, his deep voice audible over the crowd's noise.

He then turned to Dean and Benny, who stood behind him. "We're headed there," he pointed to a platform at the edge of the crowd with a podium in the middle.

Benny moved to walk there and Dean waited for Castiel to walk past him before following behind. Dean still felt his hands sweat, but it was different now that they were around a crowd of people. He was somehow less nervous than he had been with the President alone, his reaction turning more into an adrenaline rush, as he observed the crowd intently.

He noted that the crowd seemed to be divided into different types of people. Many, like the ones they had encountered when they arrived seemed to be energetically supportive, sprouting homemade signs proclaiming need for equal rights for all, in support of gay marriage and Castiel Novak, and wearing bright colors loudly. Some others appeared less enthusiastic, perhaps they were dragged here by others, or were less extroverted about their views. Another group, Dean found, appeared the opposite of the first, their signs proclaiming their dislike of gay marriage or its wrongfulness, and stating various insults against the President.

Dean clenched his fist slightly as he figured that he had a few things to say to the last group of people, but relaxed it soon, as they reached the platform. He supposed that was the President's job, not his. Dean's job was to keep him safe, so Dean focused his attention upon the opposition group, watching them carefully, especially the ones closer to the front of the platform.

Dean watched Benny move to the left side of Castiel, so he moved to his left side as Castiel walked up to the podium, placing his speech on top of it, and beginning to speak.

Dean would have listened to Castiel's speech, but he forced himself to zone out the meaning of his words as he continued to scan the crowd again, hearing only the deep resonance of Castiel's voice over his own thoughts.

Dean squinted through his sunglasses slightly as he spotted a man near the front of the crowd, surrounded by others with opposition posters against Novak, wearing a long coat and reaching his right hand inside of it.

At the sight of the man, Dean tensed, feeling his pulse quicken, and his own right hand itching to reach for his gun concealed beneath his suit jacket.

The man appeared to be looking at the President intently, which wasn't particularly suspicious on its own, except now Dean could see a glint from whatever was in the man's jacket that he was pulling out reflected in Dean's direction from the sunlight.

Immediately, Dean made a split-second decision to halt his reaching for his gun and focused on Castiel, he _had_ to save Castiel. That took priority.

"I propose—" President Novak was saying when he was cut off by Dean's own shout.

"Gun!" Dean exclaimed loudly, running towards Castiel, and seeing in a brief second an expression of panic as the man's blue eyes widened at Dean, before Dean tackled him full-force, the impact hitting the President straight in the gut, as he let out an _oompf_ of surprise.

Dean felt the world spin and his sunglasses fly off his face as he pushed the President to the floor in a rush of adrenaline, grimacing as they fell to the floor hard, his face ending up pushing into the top of Castiel's chest and his elbows surely poking into his stomach painfully. Dean reached for his gun after they reached the floor, struggling to lift himself up slightly to reach it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny rush over in the other direction, gun in hand.

Castiel gripped the fabric of Dean's suit at his shoulder tightly, moving to sit up, eyes still wide. "Dean…" he said voice coming out weak and more gravelly than usual from a lack of breath. "Dean."

"No," Dean insisted, adrenaline still coursing through him, "Stay down." He maneuvered himself so that his body covered and was shielding the President's, releasing his gun from its holster.

"Benny!" he shouted in the other agent's direction, "Man in a beige jacket, red shirt, gun in his left jacket pocket!"

Dean was beginning to note the lack of any gunshots, when Benny shouted back to him.

"No gun, Dean! No danger! It's a flask, an alcohol flask."

_No gun_, the though echoed throughout Dean's mind, his adrenaline rush ending and breathing evening out. _No danger… just a flask…_Dean cursed aloud.

"Dean…"

When Castiel said his name, Dean's attention snapped back to him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how close he was to the other man, his face a few inches from Castiel's, and his body pressed up against him, holding him to the floor. Dean became hyperaware of this and of Castiel looking up at him wide-eyed, and Dean was suddenly staring back at him, unable to breathe and unable to move. _Oh crap_, he thought, _oh crap, oh crap, oh crap_, and he didn't know how to exit, like he had suddenly malfunctioned. _Abort, abort, abort_, his mind exclaimed loudly, but his body did not comply and he just didn't know how to get up, how to exit the situation. _Just get out of there Dean, just get off of him, get off of the President of the United States, stand up, it doesn't matter how blue his eyes are or just how close his lips are to your own or that you are actually right on top of him_—

"Dean…" Castiel started again, quietly, and he licked his lips, Dean's eyes following the action closely, "Could you please…"

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed hoarsely, snapping him out of whatever state he was in, leaving him feeling the heat rise up in his face from embarrassment and stuttering wildly. How long had he stayed like that? How many people were watching? Dean was sure his entire face was bright red by now, making the situation generally even worse. "I'm really sorry, I—are you alright? Did I—hurt anything, I'll just…"

His body regained motor functions, and Dean quickly moved himself off of the President, apologizing again as he tripped over Castiel's leg on the way up. When Dean was finally vertical again, Castiel was sitting up on the floor, and Dean reached his hand out to Castiel and hauled him upwards, the President standing up much more gracefully than Dean had.

"Thank you," Castiel told Dean, attempting to readjust his suit and reaching a hand up to try and smooth out his now sticking-up hair to no avail.

"Yeah," Dean said, cursing his own entire existence.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Novak."

Dean could not stop apologizing once he and Castiel were back sitting in the limo on the way home, and the President's speech was issued to continue at a later date, after a few sympathetic glances towards Dean from Benny, Rufus, and even a few crowd members.

"Really, Dean, it's alright," Castiel reassured Dean, his blue eyes innocent and sincere as he sat across from Dean, folding his hands in his lap. "You reacted correctly given a situation in which someone did possess a gun. You merely had a misjudgment about the man's possession. That could happen to anyone. You have nothing to apologize for. I should, in fact, be thanking you for attempting to save me."

Dean nodded, looking away uncomfortably. "Yes, sir."

The President frowned at Dean. "Castiel," Castiel said, and Dean looked at him again. "My name," Castiel clarified, "You should call me Castiel, Dean. There is no need for the formality."

"Castiel," Dean tried, noticing that he was now 'Dean' to Castiel, that he had been 'Dean'. He couldn't remember when that had started; not that Dean minded.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, and Dean was surprised that it was less awkward than it had been on the first ride, despite recent events that Dean wished he could remove from his memory forever.

"When I was in High School," Dean said then, and Castiel's brow furrowed at him. "I really hated guys like that… people who hated people just 'cause of who they liked. Still do… my friend, Aaron was his name, the poor kid got bullied so many times…" Dean wasn't really sure why he was telling Castiel this, he had hardly told anyone the story, only Sam. "He was such a good guy though, and I—I passive-aggressively hated them all for it for a while, giving them death glares…"

Castiel chuckled slightly at that and Dean looked at him. He was listening, his brow still furrowed in concentration on Dean's words.

"Anyways, one day I just snapped. Punched a guy straight in the face… Alastair I think was his name… he had a broken nose, and I was suspended for like three weeks."

Castiel nodded, his eyes crinkled in sympathy. "So were you—"

"Bi," Dean answered suddenly. He wasn't really even sure if that's what Castiel was asking.

Then, Dean became confused as Castiel's eyebrows went together and he looked out the window and then back to Dean.

"You…you're leaving?" Castiel tilted his head to the side, apparently also confused, "I don't understand, we are in the middle of the road, I—"

Dean laughed loudly when he realized what Castiel was confused about, his nearly choking on the air through his laughter. "No," he wheezed, "I mean me. Bisexual."

"Oh," Castiel said.

Dean was suddenly left with the awkward silence. "Umm," he said, feeling the need to fill the space again. "I mean, I didn't really know or understand at the time, but now… yeah…"

After a moment, Castiel filled the silence. "In High School, once, someone broke my nose when it had been revealed that I was gay after they had previously taunted me for my apparent absorption in my schoolwork and reading…"

Dean clenched his fist suddenly, wishing he could meet said person…

"But he ended up with a broken arm," Castiel deadpanned.

Dean laughed again. "Wow, damn, man… that's… that's awesome."

Castiel huffed. "It wasn't really."

"What? No, you defended yourself…you broke his arm, that's crazy, and that's amazing. And what you do now, that's even more awesome, you're helping a lot of people… and remind me to never mess with you."

Castiel smiled then, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Dean died a bit inside at that. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean smiled back uncontrollably.

It wasn't until Dean was back in his Impala after saying goodbye to Castiel and the others that he realized that Castiel's speech was a televised one. On live TV.

Dean wished a hole would come up and swallow him into the Earth. Sammy would surely make sure Dean never heard the end of this.


	2. The Cake Incident

The next time an incident happened to Dean it was not his fault. It was only two weeks later, and that morning, Dean was early to the White House because Sam needed to go in early to debrief his defendant, and Dean couldn't be bothered to stay around an empty house any longer, and he really wanted a coffee. Somehow, the White House had _really_ good coffee, as he had discovered the day before when Benny had offered him some.

So, Dean walked into the White House cafeteria early that morning, determinedly making his way towards the coffee machine.

Dean noted that another red-haired girl had the same idea, as he spotted her pouring some into a to-go cup from the pot.

"Coffee hot today?" he commented, appearing behind her.

The girl promptly jumped and the cup flew out of her hands, and its contents spilled down the front of her, the floor, Dean's legs, and probably most things close to that vicinity.

She looked up at Dean and cursed loudly, reaching to pick up the fallen cup and inspect the damage. "I am so sorry, it just flew right out of my hand! Did I get any on you?" She looked at him, her eyes narrowing at Dean's pant legs, which were spattered with coffee. "Crap, I did, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's no fine, don't worry about it." Dean shook his leg a little, some of the liquid flying off. He reached for some towels. "It happens to me all the time. Here." He handed her a portion of the paper towels.

She took the paper towels. "Thank you, Mr….?"

"Dean," Dean said, "Dean Winchester, I'm Secret Service."

She smiled a bit. "I'm Q, but you can call me Charlie. Nice to meet you, Bond."

"You too." Dean laughed, bending down to wipe off the tops of his shoes and the floor.

Charlie wiped the floor across from him. "I'm an intern," she explained, and then she looked at Dean with a concentrated face, and Dean paused from his failed attempts to clean his pants. "Wait, Dean Winchester, you said?"

Dean furrowed his brows. "Yeah."

She raised an eyebrow. "The Dean Winchester who tackled the President to the ground at the speech?"

"Umm…" Dean stuttered, feeling his face heat up. "Yes, that one."

Charlie smiled at him, punching his arm lightly. "Nice one, dude. I thought I was the one making a bad impression here."

"I was just making sure he was safe," Dean blurted.

"From an alcohol flask?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "I just thought… maybe it could have been something worse, you know?…"

"Relax, Dean, I'm just kidding. What you did was really brave, even if it was a false alarm. I could never do anything like that."

Dean threw some dirty paper towels away. "Thanks, but… I'm sure you could have, if it was necessary."

Charlie laughed. "You don't know that, you've only just met me and I've spilled my coffee all over you."

It turned out that Dean and Charlie had a lot in common and they ended up discussing the merits of Captain James Kirk versus Natasha Romanoff, as if they had known each other for years.

"But Kirk has _the Enterprise_," Dean said, as they walked down the hall to the President's office, thinking that was pretty much the most convincing angle of his argument.

He held a cup of coffee for himself, one sugar (and some vanilla creamer, don't judge him, he'd tried it the day before and was sent to Heaven), in his left hand, and another for the President as a nice surprise in his left, black with no additions, as Dean had learned he liked.

Charlie scoffed, holding her own newly acquired coffee with the creamer Dean had suggested, and now sporting a _Marvel_ T-shirt that had begun their discussion in place of her pants suit, which had been a casualty of the coffee incident. "The Black Widow could easily overtake the Enterprise. She doesn't need a ship to be awesome."

Dean glared at her in mock outrage. "That's not true! Kirk is still awesome without his ship; it's just amplified when he has it and his crew."

"And Natasha has the Avengers…" Charlie looked at Dean pointedly, raising her eyebrows. "And she's played by Scarlett Johansson. You can't win, Dean."

"Wow, wow, hold on!" Dean stopped sharply in front of the door to the President's office and turned to Charlie. "You want to play the acting card, then I will. He was played by a young William Shatner! Dude's like a legend. And…" Dean paused for a moment to nail down the suspense. "In the new movies he's played by Chris Pine."

_Who has really pretty blue eyes_, Dean thought absentmindedly, _but not quite as blue as…_

"I don't see how that's better," Charlie interrupted Dean's wondering thought.

Dean sighed deeply. His thoughts were now focused on the President. "Hey, well, I've got to go give him his coffee and get on duty now, but I'm happy to continue this conversation later."

Charlie smirked. "You're just leaving because you're losing."

"No," Dean said, quickly, "That's not true."

"Yeah, yeah, the President is waiting for you," she shrugged. "Have fun saving his life and everything. You'll have to introduce us sometime, when I'm actually dressed appropriately."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "Cas wouldn't mind."

She raised an eyebrow at him again.

"What?" Dean didn't understand.

"Cas? Really?"

"Umm…" Dean sputtered, blushing, "I don't know, Castiel is kind of a mouthful," he recovered_. It just came out of my mouth, what is wrong with me!? Nicknames for the President. What the Hell, Dean, that's weird_, Dean's brain supplied.

Charlie's incredulous expression did not change. "Okay," she said slowly, as if the matter was extremely delicate, "Well, you have fun with _Cas_ then. It was nice meeting you, Dean."

Dean sighed again. "You, too, see you around."

He waved to her as she left, and then look a moment to compose himself, and finish the last of his coffee, before entering the office.

"Hey," Benny greeted him on the other side of the door, "How's it going, Dean?"

"Hey, Benny," Dean responded, "It's going good. And you?"

"Good," Benny said, and he looked at the coffee cup in Dean's hand. "That for the President?"

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "I was getting some for myself anyways."

With that Dean walked further into the office greeting Hannah Johnson, the Vice President, from where she stood by Castiel's desk. Castiel had been staring at papers on his desk, and looked up when Dean arrived.

"Dean," his deep voice greeted. "It's good to see you here, today."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "Uhh, you too." He awkwardly held the coffee out in front of him. "I got you a coffee. Black just like you like it."

"Oh," Castiel responded, grabbing the cup, "Thank you, but you didn't have to…"

"It's no problem," Dean said quickly, his face heating up again, "But you know, I would suggest some of that vanilla creamer they got down there, it's really good."

Castiel looked at Dean carefully, his blue eyes sparkling, as if he was considering. "Maybe I will."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, cool." He looked down at Castiel's desk and noticed for the first time that there was a slice of some sort of extremely chocolate cake on it, with multiple layers of chocolate and icing, accompanied by a closed letter.

Dean look at it and then at Castiel. "Nice breakfast?"

Castiel looked at the cake slice seriously, as if it would break and confess under his scrutinizing gaze. "It was on my desk this morning… Someone had put it there after it was sent to me. I suppose it is a gift."

"A gift?" Dean repeated, taking the letter from the desk. "Do you mind?"

"No, of course not, take a look. I suppose I will take it. It has been a long morning," Castiel said, picking up the cake slice.

Dean nodded again and opened the letter, curious as to who would send the President chocolate cake. Inside there was no mention of a sender, instead a cryptic note scrawled in thin handwriting:

_Here I have made a deadly chocolate thunder_

_That will surely send you under._

_If you dare to try my delicious dessert_

_You surely will convert_

_To my demanding ways._

_My secret ingredient will make you go out in a blaze,_

_And your ideas will be forever resonant,_

_Mr. President_

Dean took a moment to frown at the note while reading the hastily drawn out rhymes, before his mind immediately kicked into gear. _Deadly chocolate thunder? Convert to demanding ways? Go out in a blaze? Secret Ingredient?_

For the second time since Dean had become a Secret Service Agent, Dean's instincts immediately took over and a single thought resonated throughout his head, as he quickly looked over to Castiel, who had the cake slice in one hand and a bite on a fork in the other.

"Don't eat the cake!" Dean voiced that single thought loudly.

He blindly reached over to the President, successfully flailing his arms enough to knock the fork and even the entire cake slice out of a very confounded Castiel's arms, sending them flying onto the floor behind his desk.

Castiel blinked at him when Dean was righted again, his eyebrows knitting together. "Dean…?"

"Mr. Winchester…." The Vice President began to say, also staring at Dean incredulously.

"Umm…" Dean said, "It's the note…" He thrust the paper into Castiel's hands and the man began to read it. "It may not be safe… Poison or something… the note's pretty cryptic and I don't think we should take any chances—"

"It's safe," the President declared suddenly, looking back up at Dean.

"What?" Dean responded.

"It's Gabriel, my brother," Castiel explained, "I recognize his handwriting. He works in a bakery downtown, and he's always trying to get me to buy his desserts, to 'convert me,' though I often prefer the one across the street; they make an excellent chocolate mousse cheesecake. It has become something of a rivalry or reoccurring conflict between us."

"Oh." Dean stared at the President and Vice President blankly, and he surely he must have been turning several shades of purple and pink at that point.

"I'm so sorry, I'll just—" Dean made a move to go retrieve some napkins or at least leave this office for a moment to regain his dignity, when he severely underestimated the amount of chocolaty-sticky-ness contained inside Gabriel's cake that was currently spread all over the floor. When Dean slipped in said mess, his speech was cut off and turned into muffled cursing as he stumbled to the floor, getting a face full of what he deemed was chocolate mousse. _Who makes cake with chocolate mousse inside it anyways?!_, Dean thought in his defense.

"Dean," Dean heard Castiel say above him, as he attempted to wipe some of the chocolate off his face and suit jacket. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!" Dean exclaimed loudly, getting up off the floor, glancing quickly at Castiel's concerned face of doom, before turning to the doorway. "I'm… I'm fine, I just really need to get some napkins and… a mop or something, so I'll be back… Sorry again!"

After Dean slammed the door to the President's office behind him, he only had a few seconds of deep breathing and pondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment before Benny was staring at him and Dean was greeted with yet another concerned look.

"Dean," Benny said slowly, "What happened?"

Dean breathed out heavily. "Need to go get a mop, there's been an accident… watch the President for me while I go get one," Dean told him quickly, and he practically ran down the hallway and away from the other agent to a mop, a bathroom to wash up, or more preferably a hole deep enough for Dean to bury himself in and never leave again.

"Dude," Charlie said to Dean after he had told her everything about the cake situation when they were leaving for the night, "That is so worse than my coffee spill."

Dean groaned, the feeling of embarrassment washing over him again at the memory. "It was so bad, I could barely look Cas in the face afterwards, and the V.P. kept giving me judgmental looks when I mopped. I don't know how he can possibly like me after this."

"I bet he does," Charlie said, grinning mischievously at him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, right," he said, pushing away the thought, but she will still grinning. "What?! What makes you think that?"

"So you are interested in if he likes you back?" She asked, grin getting wider.

"I never said—"

"Give it up, Dean. It's obvious you like _Cas_. I hope he enjoyed his coffee."

Dean sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine, alright, just tell me."

"Just to clarify, you, Dean Winchester…" She gestured to him with her arms expectantly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Really, Charlie? I said alright…" Dean considered Charlie's stink eye before reluctantly continuing. "I like Cas, okay? He's the President so that's like the weirdest thing ever. Happy now?"

"Very happy," Charlie replied, opening the front door of the white house for them to leave. They walked over to Dean's Impala before Charlie continued.

"It's pretty obvious he likes you back. I mean, for one, what's not to like? Have you seen yourself?"

Dean looked confusedly down at his ruined clothes.

Charlie paused. "Well, you know what I mean, you're practically eye candy, and if I wasn't gay I'd totally date you a lot of times…"

"But—"

"No interrupting!" Charlie silenced Dean's protest. "Let me speak first. And then you've got your lovely and caring personality, demonstrated clearly by giving him coffee and defending him for danger even though it's not when no one else would…"

"I'm not sure that counts—"

"If you interrupt for one more self-depreciating comment I will get in my car and drive away," Charlie said threateningly, holding out a finger at him. "Anyways, all of those silly mess-ups, he probably just thinks you're really looking out for him, which you are, and maybe he thinks it's kinda cute how you mess up all the time."

Dean gave Charlie what he hoped was an evil facial expression in protest.

"Well, whatever you think about that, it's true because have you even seen the way he looks at you? I saw that when you were leaving today and saying goodbye. It's like you just lassoed the moon, made his whole life complete, solved all the world's problems for him, or something. And then I bet it's all 'Oh, Dean it's _so_ great to see you today'," Charlie mimicked Castiel's deep voice, "And 'Oh, Dean, thank you for standing there all day protecting me from danger' and 'I would like you to be the one to stand by my desk and not outside the door today, Dean' and 'Goodbye, Dean, have a _nice_ night'."

"It is not!" Dean exclaimed, unable to hold it in anymore, and now blushing for about the seventh time that day, but thankfully now in the darkness of the night. "It is not like that," he repeated.

"Oh, yes, I think you know it is. I at least know the last one is true. Witnessed it with my own ears."

"He was just saying goodbye!"

"Believe whatever you want, but I'm telling you he really likes you. As my final piece of evidence I propose that televised event in which you tackled him and remained lying on top of him for an extremely long time, in which you two could only stare at each other wistfully for a while."

Dean sighed. "I hate you and your logic."

Charlie tapped him on the shoulder roughly. "That's why you love me! It's been great meeting you, Dean, I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean smiled slightly, as she walked away. "Okay, I'm not convinced, but thank you, and see you."

They waved to each other and Dean got in his car with a small hint of hope bubbling inside him, that he quickly buried. That idea was crazy. Why did he let Charlie say all those things? _He is the President, the President of the United States_, Dean reminded himself as he started his Baby, _Cas could not like Dean, and Dean could not like Cas. End of story._

But Dean couldn't help but think of Charlie's words and reasoning as he drove home and as he got into bed, and he smiled at the ceiling of his room.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading it means a lot to me! Also I hoped you enjoyed Charlie here! Stay tuned for Cas POV next chapter!


	3. The Closet Incident

"Are you sure about him?"

Hannah's words pulled Castiel's attention away from the document from Congress he was signing. The Vice President was looking at him with slight concern etched in her eyes.

"Who?" Castiel asked, his mind still on the work, and running at half-capacity as it was an hour past when he was supposed to be getting to sleep.

"The new agent, Dean Winchester," she clarified.

Castiel put down his pen, all focus on the document lost now. "Yes," he said, simply.

"Castiel," Hannah began, "Are you sure? His behavior has been… weird, to say the least, and there have been at least two incidents, at your speech, and today with the cake, that have been less than satisfactory…"

"I know," Castiel sighed, sitting back in his chair and considering his next words carefully. "…. But I think that is not necessarily a bad thing, Hannah… He has shown great enthusiasm and I can see that he genuinely cares and he is not afraid to act upon these instincts."

Hannah furrowed her brows at him. "Of course, but, these instincts have led him to make a fool of himself and you twice, and none have been legitimate defenses. I am not doubting your judgement of him, but I might suggest that this is not the job for him… Mr. Winchester just may not be the best choice for you, and I think you should take the utmost care in ensuring your safety."

Castiel frowned, picturing Dean's large smile when he greets Castiel and his look of deep concentration that he dons when a matter becomes serious. "I respect your opinion, Hannah, as I always do, but I must disagree. The fact that Dean has been willing to defend me, no matter the end result, when no one else has, shows his sincere commitment and I feel that I am safer with him around… I believe that he is just the man I need protecting me, and I will continue to have him do so."

Hannah nodded at him, and stared for a moment at the papers on his desk. "I am simply worried about you, Castiel, and I think that you need to take more concern for yourself at times than you do with others. I think that your…" She paused a moment, "Defense of Dean Winchester should not be a priority."

Castiel crossed his arms. Hannah was often supportive of him, but not afraid to point out flaws or disagree with him, which is why he chose to run with her. "Thank you for your concern, but I am the President of the United States, and I must concern myself with others; that is my duty."

"Of course, it is mime as well, but you could allow yourself some sleep; you have not slept a full night for weeks now. If you are not well, how can you expect to help others?" Hannah crossed her arms in defense back at him.

Castiel rubbed his eyes warily at the truth in her words, and stared at the documents waiting for him on his desk. "Alright," he conceded, "I'll go to sleep now, try to get more sleep… but do not tell Dean Winchester of your concerns; as far as I am concerned he has been an excellent agent so far."

Hannah sighed. "Okay, Castiel, perhaps by morning you will see my point of view."

Castiel grabbed his coat and stood up from his desk. "Perhaps. Goodnight, Hannah."

As Castiel went to lay in his bed that night earlier than he had for such a long time and exhausted, he found his thoughts straying to the conversation with Hannah, about Dean. He had been so quick to dismiss everything she had said and to defend the man that he had just met a few weeks ago. He could not regret any of his words, nor accept her view, as he did truly believe that Dean was one of the best agents that he had ever had the pleasure of giving over his safety and life to, truly ideal for the job.

This was not what kept him staring into the darkness of his bedroom when he could probably sleep for days due to his lack of a healthy schedule and overworking; it was that Dean seemed like so much more than that. Castiel thought that Dean seemed to develop loyalty so quickly, and cared about others in a genuine way. He was so quick to act upon these beliefs, to protect. Though when Castiel told him these praises, he would brush it off, like it was nothing, like he wasn't anything special, like everyone was as wonderful as him, but they weren't.

Then, Castiel thought about how Dean's smile reached all the way to the crinkles in his eyes, how he loved that weird vanilla creamer, how he became all flustered and apologetic after an awkward situation, how he gave Castiel coffee earlier that day and knew just how he liked it, how his bright green eyes sparkled when Castiel gazed into them…

He broke that train of thought abruptly, putting his hand over his face to drive the thoughts away. _Dean is your Secret Service Agent, and you are the President of the United States, get it together Castiel. Just because he is super amazing, and it is not fair to you that is the status quo, it doesn't mean you should think these things; this cannot be a thing_, he thought to himself, adjusting his pillow under his head and going to sleep.

_Castiel couldn't help but smile as Dean Winchester made his coffee that morning, like he always did. Castiel always loved to visit the coffee shop across the street from his apartment to see him, before he went to his classes at University. He stared at the other man's face for a moment before he realized Dean was asking him something. About vanilla creamer?_

_"Of course I'd love to try the vanilla creamer, Dean, I'd love anything you made," he said._

_Den smiled at him gorgeously. "Awesome, I'm so glad you some in here every morning. I always like seeing you."_

_Castiel blushed profusely. "And I you."_

_"Hey, would you like to get a coffee with me sometime?" Dean asked._

_Castiel stared at him._

_"I mean, not here, obviously, but somewhere else?"_

"I'd have a coffee with you anywhere, Dean," Castiel mumbled into his pillow, jumping up from it with a start when he realized his alarm was beeping. The clock beeped relentlessly and Castiel realized that it was 9:00 A.M., very _late_. He must have hit the snooze button multiple times but failed to actually wake up.

Cursing Dean Winchester and the end of his pleasant dreams Castiel reluctantly disentangled himself from his sheets and slumped over to his closet, blearily retrieving a set of his standard suit-and-slacks combo from it. In his tiredness and attempted hurry, Castiel nearly tripped over his pants leg as he tried to put them on while walking to the bathroom. When he reached that destination, he buttoned the white shirt and brushed his teeth quickly, regarding his appearance in the mirror and resigning his sticking-up hair that refused to be tamed to its doomed fate.

As Castiel threw a blue tie around his neck, a sudden loud banging stopped his attempt to tie it, and he groaned. It was undoubtedly someone telling him how late he was or that he needed to get up now.

Castiel heard the knock again, far too loud for him just getting up, and he threw his suit jacket in the direction of his bed, unsuccessfully tucked half his shirt into his pants, and walked brusquely over to the door.

Castiel thrust the door open. "I k_now_, I'm _coming_—" he began angrily, but stopped when he recognized the person at the door, who was holding two cups of coffee and another container.

"Dean…" he said, more quietly.

"Hey," Dean replied, looking at Castiel and surely taking in his ruffled appearance. "Sorry if I've bothered you… Benny told me you'd probably still be here, so I just wanted to make sure, and get you some coffee… but you seem busy—I don't want to intrude, so I'll just—"

"It's fine," Castiel stated, running a hand through his hair nervously, but surely failing to help it. "I'm just about to leave, you can come in." In what he would like to blame on tiredness, the words were out of Castiel's mouth before he could think over them.

"Okay," Dean replied, slowly walking into Castiel's room, and Castiel wondered how the awkward man could suddenly become so serious at times. "I got you some coffee, and, umm… some of that creamer if you wanted to try it."

Thoughts of his dream filled Castiel's memories. "Err, yes I would like to try some, thank you, Dean."

"No problem." Dean poured some creamer into a coffee cup, and Castiel graciously accepted it, drinking some.

"It's delicious, I see why you like it," Castiel said.

Dean's smile sent a warm feeling spreading through Castiel's chest. He frowned and quickly turned away from Dean, walking over to place the suit he had thrown onto the floor onto his bed. "Sorry for the delay," he said, putting down the coffee and fumbling to tie his tie. "I had one too many late nights working and it seems I overslept."

"No problem," Dean replied, "Not a morning person?"

"Unfortunately not." The knot in his tie seemed to suddenly become as difficult as reducing unemployment.

"Hey, Cas, I—" Dean began, then stopped himself abruptly.

"Cas?" Castiel repeated, his hands suddenly frozen, and unable to continue attempting to work on the tie. _Cas._ Dean had called him _Cas_.

"I—I mean Castiel, I am sorry, I didn't mean to, that's not…" Dean stammered.

"Cas is good," Castiel decided, "I do not mind the nickname." The warm feeling returned, filling up and constricting in his chest. Dean thought of him as Cas.

"Cool," Dean said simply, awkwardly standing in place. "Cas…"

The nickname sounded better when Dean said it, Castiel decided.

"…what I was trying to ask is, do you need help?" Dean looked at the floor when he spoke.

"Hmm?" Castiel murmured, "I do not understand? Why would I need help?"

Castiel followed Dean's gaze as it moved to his tie. "Your tie, you… are having problems with it?"

"Yes, sorry…" Castiel said, "It… It happens sometimes, it has been an off morning." Castiel's fingers worked with it for a moment and then quickly aborted the movement, such to the dismay of Castiel's rational thoughts. "I could use assistance."

"I'm pretty good at ties," Dean's voice was saying, and before Castiel could breathe properly, Dean had invaded his personal space and either of his hands grasped at the blue fabric around Castiel's neck. "I—I used to have to tie my brother's all the time. He wasn't really happy about it though."

Dean was so close to him, though not as close as he had been before, when he had tackled Castiel. Still, Castiel knew that he should have listened to his rational thoughts and fixed the tie himself because Dean's bright green eyes were concentrated on watching his hands, which were warm where they brushed briefly across Castiel's neck with a stray movement, and Castiel could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he felt Dean's breath tickle his face.

Dean must have noticed their proximity as well because Castiel could see the shades of pink outlining Dean's face, and Castiel noticed that his blush brought out the freckles dotted all around his face—and this was a very not good situation, but Castiel was stuck in the situation until Dean finished the tie. "I'm sure Sam appreciates your help now as I assume he has learned well."

Dean hummed affirmatively in response and the moment stretched on too long, but too quickly at the same time before Dean's hands tightened the tie around Castiel's neck and returned to his sides, though he did not step back from Castiel. "There," Dean said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Hope that's good."

Castiel realized he had been staring at Dean's face the entire time, but he continued because Dean's eyes had met his. "Thank you," Castiel managed at last, "It is very good."

Then they both froze as a sudden loud alarm blared. Castiel's mind was not able to process the meaning of it due to sleepiness and because his close proximity to Dean still lingered. So, before Castiel knew it, Dean's eyes had widened and his jaw set firm, and his arms reached out and shoved Castiel backwards into his spacious closet, and he landed backwards against the floor of it.

"Stay there," Castiel heard Dean say to him from outside the door once he had shut it, "Don't move!" A loud click informed Castiel that Dean had prepared his gun.

Castiel's heart rate increased rapidly as he tried to think of the meaning of the alarm. It meant a breach in security, lockdown, perhaps an intruder, unless…

"Dean!" Castiel stood up from the floor, and attempted to open the closet door, but it was locked.

"Stay there, Cas, it's not safe!"

Castiel sighed. Dean must not have been informed of this. "Dean! Dean, listen to me, it's a drill! Can you hear me?"

"Cas?" Dean's voice said.

Castiel heard shuffling and then Dean's voice was closer. "What!? A drill?"

"Yes, Dean, it isn't real, everything is alright! We have a drill every second Friday of the month, I forgot to tell you."

"Oh." A few more moments and the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Dean, his gun now holstered.

"Sorry about that, Cas." Dean took a step forward. "And sorry about the… umm, closet thing, I didn't want you to get out, I thought it wasn't safe."

Castiel shook his head. "It's fine, I should apologize, I should have warned you of the drills. Technically, you did well in this drill, I suppose."

Dean nodded awkwardly, standing in the doorway of the closet.

"Well…" Castiel said, "Can we get out of the closet now?"

"Oh!" Dean stepped out of the doorway and Castiel followed. "I—uhh—I thought we already did."

Dean was looking at Castiel expectantly when he emerged. Castiel felt his eyebrows come together in confusion. "What?"

Dean's face turned redder again. "I—it was meant to be a joke. I mean, we had already come out of the closet… you know… we talked after your speech."

_Oh_. "Yes, I understand the joke now, Dean."

Dean nodded. "Awesome."

Castiel walked over to his bed and picked up his suit, putting it on, as the alarm sounds finally stopped. "We should get my office, now. I am very late, and they'll be wondering about the drill."

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Dean agreed, "Lead the way."

Castiel ran one last hand through his hair, grabbed his coffee, and walked out the door, Dean following behind him. He sighed deeply, trying to push down the reoccurring memory of the morning without much success.

Though Castiel had much work to do that day, he smiled whenever he sipped his coffee, vanilla creamer flavor on his tongue, and Dean standing a few feet away from him, protecting him as always.

**A/N: Thank you so much to all who have read/reviewed/faved/followed! I love you all!**


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